


No 21. I Don't Feel So Well

by Smiley5494



Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Gen, Whumptober 2020, no 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiley5494/pseuds/Smiley5494
Summary: Merlin's scars ached.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965595
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	No 21. I Don't Feel So Well

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL  
>  **Chronic Pain** | Hypothermia | Infection

Merlin’s scars ached.

They didn’t always, mostly when the weather was cold or it was going to rain, but it was often enough that it wasn’t debilitating; just painfully noticeable.

His shoulder, where the serket had stung him, felt tight and difficult to move. His chest where Nimueh had hit him with the fireball. His other scars—the few on the back of his neck where Gaius and Gwen had removed the formorroh, several stab wounds and cuts from sharp weapons—were less awkward to deal with, less stiff. They hurt, yes, aged him prematurely, forced him to remember moments he would much rather forget.

When the scar on his chest ached, he remembered the sensation of directing lightning to kill Nimeuh. She had been his first planned kill, sure he’d dropped the chandelier on Mary Collins and he’d deflected the axe into Edwin Muirden, but with Nimeuh he’d gone there with the knowledge in the back of his mind that one of them would never be walking off that isle, and Merlin hadn’t wanted to die. The lightning itself had been powerful in a terrifying kind of way, directing that much energy was something that Merlin both feared and craved.

When the serket sting ached, Merlin remembered the feel of chains—tightening when he struggled, ever tighter, _constricting_ —and the realisation that he would probably die from the serkets, alone in the forest. He remembered wondering if anyone would look for him. Wondering that if they even did, would they find his body? He hadn’t exactly told anyone where he was going, he’d just left. Morgana wouldn’t have said a thing, merely watched.

When the other scars ached, Merlin remembered the perfectly ordinary moments. Those moments were some of his favourites, so he remembered them fondly, even when the scars twinged.

They made him incapable of truly escaping the past, incapable of forgetting the minutes where it was him or them; moments where he made a choice that would be impossible to reverse. Still, he wouldn’t change a thing, no matter how much his scars hurt.


End file.
